Happy birthday to my youngest boy, the one who most often rocks the boat of our family while giving us the sweetest smiles on earth.
The one who has the audacity to swallow a quarter three days ago but is too shy to share the awesome picture of his insides with his classmates.
The one who dances like a teenager and tantrums like a two-year-old.
The kindergartener who proudly shows me his reading bin and does complex math in his head.
The late night worrier (how can I be a grown-up if I don’t know how to cook? What if I can’t handle the responsibility of driving a car?).
The snuggler, always the snuggler.
The sayer of sweet, thoughtful things and button-pushing manipulative things.
The loving boy who chases his big brother down for a kiss, then tackles him to the ground.
The backyard adventurer with his wand and his light saber at the ready.
The wanderer, never happy to stay at home.
The one who always greets me as though I am the one he’s been waiting all his life to say hello to.
Big hugs to my six-year-old.